


One Perfect Thing

by enid_salt



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Blatant disregard of canon movie scene, F/M, Not Quite Gen, a few random cursewords appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enid_salt/pseuds/enid_salt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always easy to get lost in the details but when that singular beautiful moment comes along, you have to sit back and appreciate it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Perfect Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joanie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Joanie).



There was a fine but very full sense of irony in Clint Barton’s life. Street rat becomes circus sensation becomes Earth’s best line of defense; it’s hard not to think, “Well, now I’ve seen everything.”

But he hadn’t. Clearly, he hadn’t because Clint Barton was standing in a jewelry shop with Pepper Potts and Tony Stark, staring at engagement rings. He had shot intergalactic aliens with specialized arrows and yet never known how nerve racking the princess vs. round cut debate would be.

“I can’t do this.”

Pepper grabbed his arm, made a face, and Tony grabbed his other arm.

“Yes, you can. It’s just a ring.”

Tony chimed in, “Yeah, it’s the ‘being together forever’ part that’s the head-turner.”

Clint swayed in their arms, “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Pepper moved her hand to rub his back, “Clint, you are fine. Tony, go sit on the curb, we’ll come and get you when we’re done.”

Clint nodded and felt secure in his footing again. Tony stomped in his.

“Not fair. It’s my money, I should get to see how it’s used.”

Pepper must have shot the worst glare she had in her arsenal because in the moment that Clint eyes opened again, Tony was scurrying out.

“Okay, it’s just me. We’re just looking. It’s fine. Breathe.”

Clint shook out his hand and rolled his head on his neck. He had less tension going into Fury’s office the first time. Then again, no one scared him like an angry Tasha did.

“I just, can’t think of what she’d want. And I know, look into your heart and blah blah blah, I just want the right one, you know?”

Pepper got a misty, wistful look in her eyes. She nodded.

“Let’s take a break, though: walk around the shop and look at stuff. Hell, if you want anything else, I’ll buy it on Tony’s tab.”

Clint glanced around, he mostly saw numbers though: $500, $1,200, did that say $2,300 … okay, maybe he was just walking in the wrong direction. He skittered in the opposite direction, and a separate display case caught his eye. It was filled with jewelry just the same but they didn’t seem as polished but if possible, more elegant.

“What’s this?”

The sprite young woman behind the counter answered, “Antiquities. Gems that have been handed down through generations and come into our collection.”

Pepper popped over, “See anything?”

Towards the bottom, center row in a box of rings, was the ring. The right one.

“Clint?”

He pointed it out, tapping on the glass and then wiping away his fingerprint from the glass with his sleeve.

“That’s it.”

A short time and exorbitant amount of money later – Clint tried not to check the receipt but he did have a hawk’s eyes – it was paid for in full and he was staring at the box in his hand.

“I think I’m really gonna hurl this time.”

Tony, always appropriate, didn’t budge save for rolling down the window closest to Clint.

The suit shopping was better, calmer. Phil Coulson had that effect everywhere, though, Clint had realized.

“I still don’t see why I can’t just wear one of the suits we use for undercover work.”

Phil adjusted the collar and turned Clint’s body around to see it from all angles, doing more work than the tailor less than three feet away, “This is one suit you won’t ruin with bullet holes, blood, and gunpowder residue.”

As Clint opened his mouth to reply, Phil added, “Hopefully.”

After the measurements were written down, they sat and waited for the tailor to come back with the suit pinned temporarily to fit.

“I feel I should say something, a nice little man-to-man talk, as your …”

Nothing was said but the words hung in the air: handler, friend, brother.

“I’m proud of you, that’s all.”

Clint didn’t respond, just nodded and wiped at his eye with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Don’t do that, we haven’t bought it yet.”

Clint laughed, “Then don’t make me weep, Coulson.”

Suit bag hung in the closet; Clint was almost feeling better about the whole thing. Almost.

Nick Fury never called anyone into his office for something minor. He had Maria Hill run her way around the office twice before calling someone in unless it was “imperative” – his own words. So calling Clint in had to be some serious shit.

“Sir, whatever I did, I heartily apologize and will do the paperwork in triplicate – but what have I done again?”

If he didn’t have plans this Friday night, Clint wouldn’t fold so easily even if Fury’s personal (yes, personal) bazooka was aimed at him.

“You haven’t done anything yet. At least, I hope you haven’t yet.”

Clint stood in place, restlessly twirling the pen he forgot to drop in his fingers.

“Can I see the ring?”

Clint fished the box out of the pocket – top, inside, right against his heart. He placed it, open, on the director’s desk.

Nick picked it up, chuckling, “Yeah, you got it right.”

He snapped the box shut and tossed it back to Clint.

“Good luck.”

As reassuring as it was (and yet, still unnerving) Clint left the office worried about only one person’s opinion – the one the really mattered.

In his Stark tower quarters, he shook off the excess adrenaline and stopped pacing the room’s length long to stop and turn to the person seated on the bed.

“I’ve got so many things I want to say but fuck all of that, I want to marry you. You down?”

Bruce pressed a hand to his chest in the most exuberant fashion, batting his eyelashes.

With a falsetto tone, he responded, “Oh, Clint, I could empty a magazine into the ceiling I’m so happy – YES!”

Clint grabbed a rubber band and hit Bruce dead between the eyes, “You fucking troll. This is your idea of helping me out?”

Bruce laughed and flicked the rubber band back with the inevitable lack of accuracy.

“Look who’s talking – ‘you down?’ You think you would survive proposing to Tasha like that?”

Clint swiveled on his feet and smacked his head against the wall.

“If I get formal, it gets mushy and feels insincere as fuck, but if I just blurt it out, I say stupid shit like that.”

Bruce sighed, “Stand upright. Face me.”

Clint did as he was told.

“Breathe – in, out.”

One long breath was taken.

“Tell me why you want to do this. Explain it like you would explain a strategic move that no one else can see on the field.”

“Nat is my world; as much as we have around here, in the end all any of us have is each other. I just want the world to know I appreciate what I got.”

Bruce nodded, “Think you can tell Natasha that?”

Clint took another bracing breath, “Yeah, okay, I can work with that.”

Thor was out of the tower already, but close by and on alert to handle any emergency that the city had to spare one night for this occasion. The last teammate left before the big night began was in the kitchen preparing the food.

“Steve, you are amazing.”

Steve turned away from the pot to smile at Clint.

“I am – maybe you should be proposing to me.”

Clint laughed as he straightened the tie and peeked at his friend’s handiwork, “And break Phil’s heart? Never.”

They both glanced at the clock on the oven.

Steve took off the apron and quickly hugged Clint.

“It’s all gonna be fine.”

Clint nodded, “And even if it’s not, she’ll probably kill me quickly and painlessly. Less clean up that way.”

Steve chuckled and tapped a light punch on Clint’s shoulder, “If the impossible happens and she says no, nonviolently, my offer stands – I’ll handle Phil myself.”

Clint was lost for words and settled for a halfhearted thumbs up. A minute later and he was alone with his loop of worst-case scenarios as he finished setting up. JARVIS interrupted with a quiet announcement that Natasha is in the elevator on her way up. Clint meets here there with a smile.

She stepped out with a bigger grin and kissed him.

“Date night is a go.”

He lead her to the table he’d nicely arranged in the common dining area the team usually piles up on when they have a post mission meal together.

“Food smells great – what did Steve make?”

Clint let his face fall in feigned hurt, “I cook pretty well – how do you know I didn’t make it?”

Natasha wrinkled her nose, “Yeah, you keep thinking that. Now what did Steve make for us?”

Clint sighed, “Your favorite – which I told him. So that counts. Partially.”

Natasha unfolded her napkin into her lap, “Sure it does.”

He forgot about the big plans he had momentarily and lost himself in the ease of their intimacy. They ate, talked, and – once she’s good and ready – they had JARVIS turn up the music and danced a bit. The soundtrack finished and they were still swaying in silence when Natasha’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Barton, you’re stalling.”

Clint’s heart jumped and it’s honest to god only his training that kept it from showing on his face – much.

“Stalling? Who’s stalling? Can’t a guy want to revel in date night forever?”

Her eyes narrowed and he knew it was now or never. One arm still wrapped around her waist, he dropped her hand and fished the box out of his pocket – again, the top inside one right against his heart. He went back to the moment in the room with Bruce. One deep breath; in, out.

“Tasha, you’re the best thing in my life – and that’s saying something. So I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of being that for the rest of my life.”

He was just nervous enough to be holding the box, still closed, at eye level. Her hand rose to open it. Seeing the ring, she smiled, but it’s when her eyes met his again that it reached her eyes and they sparkled in the way that makes Clint feel like the luckiest guy on the planet.

“Yes.”

And then he actually was the luckiest damn fucker on the planet. At least, that’s what he said as she laughed and let him slip the ring on her finger.


End file.
